Page 4 of Royal Charmer
She shakes her head emphatically. “No. I’m not going there. I’m not wasting my time rehashing what I’ve already wasted an entire week rehashing. I did the grief thing, the sobbing tear thing, thehow could youthing; I’m done.” She pushes her palm out in front of her. “I am moving on.”
“That sounds health—”
“I mean, it’s not like I want to marry him now, you know?” She jabs a finger in the air. “If he showed up right now, on his kneesbeggingfor forgiveness and showering me with chocolate and rose petals and diamonds, that would still be a hard no.”
I almost laugh because chocolate came before diamonds in her mind, but she’s scowling and clearly still in distress. “Tell me what happened.”
She waves me off, her head turned away. “I don’t want to unload on you. I just met you. No offense.”
“Well, I am offended.”
Her head whips toward me, her eyes wide. “You are?”
“Yes. You have a charming, handsome man sitting here ready to listen, and you’re only giving part of the story. It’s like a cliffhanger, and you, as an author, should know better than to leave the world’s most eligible royal bachelor on the edge of his seat, not knowing the ending.”
Her lips part as she stares at me. “I don’t even know where to begin with what you just said. There’s so much to unpack. The author swipe, the charming, handsome description of self, the fact that—”
“You don’t think I’m charming and handsome?” I give her my crooked sexy smile that always works with women.
She flushes pink and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Even a woman in distress can’t resist that smile.
“Well…” she says slowly as if she’s being careful of what she says. She meets my eyes with a serious expression, and I’m struck by the sharp intelligence reflected there. “It was very kind of you to sit here with me while I have my existential crisis. It’s just that some might say, not me butsome, that referring to yourself as charming and handsome borders on the arrogant as opposed to someone else saying those things about you.”
“Feel free to say them.”
Her lips twist to the side, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re charming and handsome.”
“Thank you.”
“And you know it.”
I grin. “Everyone knows it, and you’re smart and beautiful.”
She gasps, her eyes wide.
“Why the shock?” I lean toward her ear, lowering my voice to a husky tone. “Surely you know that about yourself.”
Bright pink dots her cheeks. Freaking adorable. She recovers herself and says, “Obviously I know that, but it’s nice to hear you say it. Thank you.”
I incline my head. “Now I sense Mason was the villain in this love triangle, but you tell me. Was it burn-his-picture bad or scorch-the-earth bad?” I sense more tears won’t help her. She needs action, something cathartic.
She wrings her hands together. “Well, it wasn’t the earth’s fault. I guess it was burn-his-picture bad.”
“Then let’s do it. Do you have any pictures of him we could burn?”
“Only on my phone.”
I wiggle my fingers for the phone. “Let me see.”
“Why?”
I let out an exaggerated breath. “So we can put a hex on him of course. Next best thing to burning a picture.”
“A royal businessman who performs witchcraft,” she says as she pulls her phone out of a pocket in her dress. “Didnotexpect that. Probably an exorcism would work better though.” She taps a few times, scrolls rapidly, and stares at the screen.
I pull her phone toward me. A tall skinny man with rumpled brown hair, round frameless glasses, and a prominent Adam’s apple looks back at the camera rather smugly.
“He looks like a geek,” I say, which is being polite. He looks like a smug ass, and I want to smack him already.
